


Indecently Happy

by dispatchwithlove



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light-Hearted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26000788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dispatchwithlove/pseuds/dispatchwithlove
Summary: A different spin on the ‘one turian kind of woman’ conversation
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 15
Kudos: 96





	Indecently Happy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to all those who left such nice comments on this one. I like to answer all comments with a thanks, but for some reason, I just slipped up on this one. So, to all those who left comments, and to those who left kudos as well, I want to send out a big thank you. 
> 
> Also a little turian language note: amar is a word I made up. It's a turian endearment for their mate, meaning "the one I love" or "my love". I use that word in this fic and in others.

“Turians don’t hit on you anymore. Must be a shot to your ego.” Shepard is smiling at him. It’s a cocky, playful smile that he’s overjoyed to see. The past few months she hasn’t smiled as much as he’d like. Though, she has good reason. Battling Reapers on foot, losing friends, and worried about keeping the ones you still have alive -- along with the rest of the entire galaxy -- would have ruined anyone else. But Shepard, his amar, is just tired, and she doesn’t smile enough. Her strength, and ability to shine bright on even the worst days, makes him proud of her. But he’d still love her just as much, even if she fell apart every once and awhile. 

“Not really,” he replies. They’re sitting at a bar on the Citadel relaxing after a long day. Her hand is wrapped in his, resting on his thigh. The bar is loud, and they haven’t said much. Their warm smiles and soft touches have been all the communication they needed, though. And having her, Commander Shepard, as his mate is the only ego boost he needs. 

“You still have the asari and quarians though,” she continues to tease him. “What’s that about?”

He leans closer, not altogether enjoying the teasing. He doesn’t enjoy jokes about others wanting either of them, and he feels guilty that he can’t take it as lighthearted as she does. “Turians can tell I’m with you,” he tries to subtly remind her. 

“Asari and quarians can too, and they still try,” she uses her free hand to pick up her drink and take a slow sip. She hasn’t eaten that much today -- he can tell when she doesn’t eat much because she doesn’t drink as much. 

“Turians know it’s a waste of time. You and I smell like each other, so it’s clear to turians that we’re mates, not just on a date.” He wants to talk about anything else, but avoiding this topic has only made him more anxious over the past few weeks. 

She looks him straight in the eye, but her expression worries him. Seriousness dances behind her eyes, even though she’s trying to carry on her teasing demeanor with an expression on her face that’s forced. She sighs, and that makes him _really_ worry. “Listen, if you ever miss being with a turian—” 

“Stop,” he says quickly, his tone is clipped and he hates talking to her like that, but for weeks now he’s feared this conversation more than Cerberus, or Reapers, or even losing his family. 

“No, I’m serious,” she persists with that damned lightened tone that sounds fake to his ears and wrenches at his gut. “I’d rather you just talk to me. I can take shitty news, but I can’t take dishonesty.”

“Are you trying to tell me you miss humans?” He knows he’s speaking with fear now, but he can’t help it. He also knows he’s clenching at her hand, but he can’t stop that either. It may make him feel and look weak, but he always holds on to her when he’s scared. And this talk, and the possibility of losing her, scares him. 

“ _No_.” she insists. And now she looks as worried as him. She leans closer and squeezes his hand back to reassure him. “I’m just saying, I know you’re attracted to turians and not humans, and at some point I’m sure—”

He’s not quite sure where she’s going with this, but he’s had about enough of the conversation. “Let’s just stop you right there. Putting aside the extensive evidence that I’m attracted to you. I told you. I love you.”

She takes another drink, and when she puts it back down her eyes don’t come up to meet his, which makes his subvocals kick in. She won’t be able to hear the anxious chittering in his chest, but with her hand on his thigh she’ll feel the thrumming that travels throughout his body. “I know. I know you do. But I’m an adult capable of using logic, I know that’s not always enough.”

“Enough?” he balks at her, and for a moment he thinks that he hates that they’re not the same species, before he calms down and remembers he’d never want anyone else. 

“To keep you interested in me. _Just me_.” She wiggles her hand within his to free it, and begins to stroke his thigh to comfort him. She’s felt the thrumming and wants to soothe him. 

“I’m not a human,” he blurts out before his better judgment can save him. The way he said ‘human’ too...spirits, he sounds bitter and he really shouldn't. Damn his inability to speak about this with anything other than his own insecure fear. 

She draws back, clearly offended and scowling at him. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means,” he doubles down, starting to feel a bit resentful, and not just confused, about human biology. 

Her free hand, because the other one is still brushing his thigh lovingly, shoots up to her face so that she can point a finger at herself, telling him to look at her expression. “See this look?” her finger swirls around in a circle. “I’m confused.” Suddenly he feels like he’s being berated by his commander, not having a conversation with his mate. Damn their strange power dynamics. Maybe someday, once this war is over and they’ve been sitting on a beach enjoying life for a few years, he’ll forget that she’s his commander. Or, maybe not. Maybe he’ll always do whatever the hell she tells him to. 

His gaze rises to meet hers, and he wants to use humor to diffuse this situation. “You look mostly pissed,” he says with a coy smile. 

“I’m that too,” she matches his coy smile, making his heart thrum. His hand drifts back over to surround hers and he pulls it back to simply rest on his thigh once again. They just smile at each other for a long moment, but a flicker of doubt flashes through her eyes. 

He hums, but not because he’s amused or because he’s feeling particularly sexual, but because he’s still nervous. They need to have this talk, he knows that. And he supposes that an overcrowded bar smelling of pheromones and depression is as good a place as any. “How is this not covered in basic alien studies classes?” he mumbles while swirling his drink around. 

“You better start getting specific, turian,” she says. She’s still smiling, but he can tell she’s getting frustrated. 

“Turian? You aren’t allowed to spend any more time with Wrex,” he tries to joke, but he gets no reaction out of her. So, he sucks up his courage. “We don’t go from mate to mate like humans do.”

Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to phase her. “Is that one of your honor things?” she asks, not judging, just curious. “Because I don’t need a boyfriend who’s only with me because he feels like it’s the honorable thing to do. Love isn’t an obligation.”

“No, it’s not,” he admits, realizing she doesn’t get the point he’s trying to make. “I _really_ did not want to bring this up. This is why it’s so awkward for turians and humans to date.”

“Excuse me?” She’s oddly offended. 

He looks her straight in the eye, finally able to speak honestly with her. “No, it’s not about honor. If anyone should be worried here, it’s me. I knew that saying ‘I love you’ meant two different things for us, but I told you how I felt anyway --”

“Different things?” she interrupts. Dammit, why can’t she just listen? “When have I ever indicated that I want anyone but you?”

“That’s not the point. Humans are…fickle. Turians aren’t. We don't mate like humans do -- we don’t betray our mates for sexual gratification from another, and we don’t fall in love easily, over and over, like humans do.”

“This is feeling very xenophobic here. And all I was trying to do was talk about our relationship like an adult.”

He moves his free hand down to hers, where it rests on the bar, so that he can stroke along her wrist with the back of his talon. 

“Oh is that what this is?” he speaks frankly. “Because it seemed like you were making jokes instead of taking responsibility for your insecurities and having a honest discussion.”

“Says the king of making jokes to avoid uncomfortable topics.” Spirits, she can be stubborn. He loves her for it, though. 

“Why are we arguing right now? I’m trying to convince you that you have nothing to worry about, and you’re pushing so damn hard I’m going to end up scaring you off.” His words sound harsh, but he’s trying to keep the mood light by smiling at her like he does no one else. His chest swells with affection for her when the look in her eyes returns all the affection he feels for her. He knows she loves him, but he still worries... 

“Scaring _me_ off? You just told me you think I’m going to betray you, when you’re the one who has never been attracted to humans. How can you be happy if what you truly want is a turian? And it seems like _you’re_ going to get scared off, thinking I’m _fickle_.”

This is going worse than he expected. “Fuck,“ he breathes out.

Hearing him curse makes her smile, because he doesn't use colorful words as much as she does. When he does use them, he still feels like he needs to look over his shoulder to watch out for a swack from his dad. “You’ve been hanging out with me too much,” she says. 

He sighs, knowing he needs to continue discussing their relationship honestly. “I might as well just say it, even though I’m not sure how you don’t already know this. Jane, we mate for life. It’s biology. Turians fall in love once. Even if their mate dies, most don’t fall in love again, and if they do it takes decades. Now put it all together. How does that make you feel?” He knows that sounds like a challenge -- it kind of is.

Her lips part lightly, but no words come out -- she’s speechless. He can see the hint of an elated smile pulling at the corner of her lips, but she’s holding it back. He can tell she’s happy, so he continues. 

“This is it for me. I didn’t just fall in love with you, Jane. I bonded with you, a while ago. Even if you die, the likelihood of me ever feeling anything like this with anyone else is really low.”

Not moving an inch, or flexing a single muscle, she watches him, so he continues. “It would take something really drastic to change that, like more drastic than death. You could draw your gun and put a bullet in me and I’d still love you with my last breath.”

“Is that true?” She finally manages to say, and her voice is softer. As soft as it is when they’re alone in her cabin, when their arms are entwined and they softly nuzzle each other’s cheeks and necks until they fall asleep. She whispers to him in that soft voice that he’s the only thing keeping her going, that she’s strong because of him. 

“Well, I’d probably be pretty pissed that my bondmate, the love of my life, was killing me but—“

“No, dammit.” she says impatiently, waving her hand in the air telling him to stop talking. “About turians. They bond for life.”

She doesn't seem scared off or conflicted about what he just told her, which has him hoping and dreaming about the future. If he wasn’t so frustrated with her he’d scoop her up right then and there. For a brilliant tactician and diplomatic genius, she's pretty thick when it comes to personal relationships. To be fair, he is too though. Only by the spirits’ blessing, they’ve made it this far. “Again, how was that not covered in alien studies?” 

She scoots closer to him, and picks up his other hand, pulling it to her neck where he strokes the delicate skin at the curve of her neck with the back of his talon. “I don’t know. I was probably daydreaming. If we were covering dating and marriage, I was definitely daydreaming.”

He muses at her lovingly, “How did you end up in the military and not a painter, or author. You are such a romantic.” He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, his mandibles softly flexing in a smile. 

“I’m good at punching things, not writing or painting. Not all of us are multi-talented, perfect, kind, smart, artist slash soldier types.” She’s gushing at him, about him. He wonders how in all the galaxy he found someone that he loves this much.

“You haven’t said sexy yet,” he teases. “I’m also very sexy.”

She smirks. “Maybe I wasn’t talking about you.”

A rumble erupts in his chest, this time it’s caused by affection, and need for her. “You’re going to get a bite for that.”

She’s nuzzling the hand that he’s using to softly brush her cheek. She nuzzles like a turian. It’s adorable. “Liara told me once, that turians’ inclination to bite is directly correlated to their subconscious desire and drive to bond with their partner.”

“There’s probably truth to that.”

“Is that why you like wrapping your mouth around my neck, and my shoulders, and my--?” She grasps his hand that’s been resting on his thigh and directs it to her thigh instead. He can smell the ache rising from her, and can nearly feel her muscles vibrating for him, calling for him. 

A rumble rises in his chest, he leans in closer to her and runs a talon along her inner thigh, stopping just short of being indecent in public. “Stop talking like that, unless you want me to find a quiet corner and --”

She raises an eyebrow and purposefully parts her lips just slightly, pouting at him like she knows he likes. Especially when she’s straddling his thighs and he’s smacking her ass. “Mmm,” she hums. “Don’t say it, or I’ll let you.”

“Yeah,” he says, returning them to the topic of turian biting, “maybe that’s why I like pressing my teeth to your skin so much.”

“You know, this is it for me too. You are the love of my life, Major Vakarian. Consider me bonded,” She brushes his neck, just under his mandible, with the back of her nails. “If you ever wanted that, when this is all over…” nerves make her voice shaky, which is rare, “maybe sometime in the future if you wanted to, I would be happy to be marked by you.”

He can feel the ridiculous smile pulling his mandibles so wide it strains the muscles in his cheeks. “Jane Shepard. Are you asking me to marry you?”

A demure smile flicks across her mouth, also a rare sight on her. “Maybe, someday.”

“Why someday?” he says quickly. 

“Ok.” her voice is so dreamy he gets lost for a moment.

And then he wakes up. “Wait, did I just ask you to be my bondmate?” 

“I thought this would be a lot more romantic. And more clear,” she jokes. Even though it’s a joke he realizes what she just said, that she’s thought about being his bondmate before. 

Practicality steps in when she says, “I don’t want you to be unmarked. Is it even possible for me to mark you?”

“I know some turians who bond with asari or quarians get artificial marks added.”

Shepard scrunches her nose at that. “That seems…lame. Doesn’t it?”

“Better than nothing, I suppose.”

“Wait, how is it made?” This is how he knows he’s an adult. Now they're talking about logistics and practicalities. And the reality of it is sinking in, but he couldn't be more excited. His subvocals are absolutely singing. 

“I think they take a dental casting, then scarify the skin based on the casting.” 

She looks frustrated. “But marking is supposed to be intimate. It _means_ something. That’s so…clinical.”

“Conceiving is supposed to be an intimate act too, but not everyone can do that the typical way, either. Sometimes clinical is the only option.”

“We can’t do that either,” she says, disappointment souring her expression. She’s thinking about kids, with him... and he thought she couldn’t make him any happier. _Damn_. “It would be nice to have something normal.”

“Let’s talk to Mordin. Might as well take advantage of having a genius scientist for a friend.” He realizes somehow they’ve wound up almost wrapped entirely around each other, nuzzling sweetly and petting each other with such sappy affection that they must look really out of place amongst the depressed, drunk patrons who are all staggering or slumped around them. This kind of happiness shouldn't be allowed to exist in the galaxy right now, when everything is burning and everyone is dying. 

She stops petting him for a moment with her tiny, soft, beautiful little fingers. “Wait, wait. Ask me,” she says, excitement making her almost vibrate with energy. 

“Ask you what?” he says, wrapping his palm around the back of her neck and tickling her throat with his talons. 

Her eyes widen and brows perk up, trying to make him get the hint. But it’s flying right over his head, so she has to explain, “I want to hear you ask me to be your bondmate.”

That’s definitely something he can do. He stiffens and clears his throat, but doesn’t remove his hand from her neck. “Oh, yeah. Um…” he pauses, thinking. “How do they do it in those human vids you make me watch?” After searching for the answer for a moment while her expectant eyes stay locked on him, it pops into his mind. To make her happy by giving her the moment she’s always dreamed of, he leans forward in mock seriousness.

“Jane Shepard,” he starts, his voice purring because he knows it makes her knees weak. He takes her hand. “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

She smiles, stifling a euphoric giggle. “Yes,” she says, then she brushes her jaw against his mandible. 

“Good.” He wraps a hand around her waist and roughly pulls her up against him so that her breath catches. He stands, bringing her up with him, her legs dangling above the ground. “Now let’s get back to the Normandy. I need to do some things to you right now that are indecent for such a public place." 

  
  



End file.
